


This house is not a home (without you here)

by galaxylane



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Post-Season/Series 01, Season 2 Speculation, lyatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxylane/pseuds/galaxylane
Summary: Lucy moves across the street from Wyatt, and he finds himself spending more time at her place than he spends at his own.[Or, five times they hang out at Lucy's apartment, and one time they end up at Wyatt's.]





	1. Two Beers and a Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! First time writing for this fandom (and first time writing in a long time), so I'm a bit nervous. This fandom doesn't have a whole lot of fics yet, so I'm hoping to add to it. This is basically a series of six related one shots, so there isn't a strict timeline. Hope you enjoy!

Wyatt Logan will swear up and down that it wasn't planned.

He knows she's been looking for a new place to stay after the revelation regarding her mom and Rittenhouse. Lucy has been mostly sleeping in hotels and doing the occasional couch surf at Jiya's in an effort to avoid the mess that has become her life, and Wyatt knows it is beginning to wear her down. He has lost count of the amount of times she's shown up to work with dark circles under her eyes.

So, like any good friend, when he notices a vacancy sign in the apartment building across the street from his, he simply passes the information along. And sure, there may have been the slight ulterior motive of being able to better keep an eye on her, but Rittenhouse had a special interest in her, and that fact had put both he and Rufus on high alert. 

"It's a safe neighbourhood," he explains as she read the listing on his phone. "They have a really good security system. It's one of the more affordable options for the area too."

"Sounds like you've really done your research," Jiya pipes up from her desk. There is an amused, almost knowing tone to her voice that makes Wyatt frown ever so slightly, but Lucy shifts his attention.

"It is better than any of the listings I've seen so far," she says thoughtfully. "But...it wouldn't bother you? Me being so close to your personal space? I mean we already spend so much time together, I don't want you to get sick of me."

Wyatt opens his mouth to brush off her concerns, but is cut off by Jiya saying, "I don't think he'd be upset about having you in his personal space."

Rufus nudges Jiya's arm, but her face remains deceptively innocent. Lucy doesn't appear to notice however, as she is already moving off to call the landlord.

 

They help her move in just over a week later. Rufus and Wyatt move most of the large furniture in over the course of the afternoon while Lucy and Jiya unpack boxes. By the time the sun has set, the apartment actually looks like home. Lucy orders some pizza as a thank you, and for a brief period of time she feels at ease surrounded by her friends. Eventually, Rufus and Jiya excuse themselves to make an evening showing of a classic sci-fi film that Lucy has never heard of before. She thanks them again and locks the door immediately behind them. She cringes a little at her own paranoia. Wyatt says nothing about it as she turns around, but she knows he's watching her closely. He doesn't miss much. 

When the silence stretches on, Wyatt shifts on his feet and scratches the back of his neck. "Well I guess I should—"

"Do you want a beer?" she blurts out. He seems taken aback for a moment. She is too. She'd had no intention of asking him to stay until he had mentioned leaving, but he nods and smiles.

"Sure."

Lucy moves to the kitchen, mentally kicking herself for her own uneasiness. She hasn't been able to shake the feeling of wrongness since her mother had admitted to being connected to Rittenhouse. Her entire world has been turned upside down for the second time in a matter of months, and she isn't sure when, if ever, her life is going to regain some semblance of normalcy. She just knows it's easier when she isn't alone. She grabs two beers from the fridge and gestures towards her balcony doors. Wyatt takes the offered drink and follows her out into the cool night air. The balcony is small, just big enough for two chairs and the potted cactus she took on a whim that morning from her house. She leans back in her chair and puts her feet up on the railing as Wyatt sits down beside her. 

"So how are you doing?" he asks. He's been waiting to ask all day, ever since she had returned from her mother's house with the final load of items, her eyes exceptionally bright. 

"Honestly? I feel terrible," she admits, taking a sip of her beer. She stares straight ahead at the lights from the building across the street and tries to push down the tears she can feel burning the back of her eyes. "I feel like a terrible daughter and that I'm abandoning my mom. I know that that probably sounds crazy, knowing that she's part of Rittenhouse, but..." she swallows harshly. "When she was sick I wished for so long that I could have her back, even just for a day. I used to think about all the things I'd say to her, or do with her if I had the chance. Now I do have her back, and I'm running away from her. I hate it."

She turns her head to see Wyatt watching her, his blue eyes serious. "It's not crazy, Lucy. Rittenhouse or not…she's your mom."

When Lucy doesn't respond, Wyatt takes a long drink and with his eyes downcast, he says quietly, "After my mom died I thought all the time about all the things I wish I could have said to her. The things I wish she had told me. The things in my life she was going to miss. I know they say that eventually you get used to it but I always felt her absence. Grandpa Sherwin did his best, but…sometimes you just need your mom, you know?"

Lucy smiles softly but says nothing. Wyatt doesn't talk much about his childhood, and she fears that if she speaks, he'll retreat behind his walls with a shrug and a practiced grin.

"I know this is messed up. We chase people through time, everything in our lives is messed up," he chuckles. He looks at her now for the first time since he mentioned his family, and she feels frozen at the intensity in his eyes. "I know it's not the way your life was with your mom before all this, but if it were me and my mom I'd still take advantage of having her here, Rittenhouse or not. I don't think it's crazy or selfish. Your mom is your mom." 

He is looking at her earnestly, the corners of his mouth turned up and hinting at a soft smile. She blinks back unshed tears and nods in return. He looks away for a moment to drain the remainder of his drink and Lucy takes the opportunity to compose herself.

"And hey," he murmurs, "maybe if we do manage to get rid of Rittenhouse for good, you might really get her back after all." 

"Yeah." She does smile then, a real one this time, feeling lighter than she has in a while. 

Wyatt looks satisfied that she seems to have relaxed. He clears his throat and says, "Well, I should get going. But hey, if you need anything I'm just across the street. Thanks for the drink, Lucy." 

"Sure." Attempting to lighten the mood, she gestures across the street towards the windows of the opposite apartment building. "So, uh, you never said…which one is yours?"

Wyatt grins as he stands to leave. “You think I’m going to tell you? How do I know you aren’t some sort of peeping tom, Lucy Preston?”

Lucy rolls her eyes, watching his retreating back as he makes his way to her front door. “You wish.”

It’s faint, but she’s sure she can hear a laugh and a “Yes, ma’am” as her front door shuts behind him.


	2. Ready when burnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wyatt helps a drunk Lucy get home and gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the two week delay in updating. I had a particularly busy couple weeks at university and this had to be backburnered. That said, the next chapter is pretty much done and will be posted in the next few days. Sorry for the delay!

Wyatt is pretty sure it's that fifth shot of tequila that did her in.

He looks down at where Lucy is leaning heavily against his arm, fumbling with her apartment keys and muttering something unintelligible under her breath. He supposes it might have been a good idea to cut her off sooner, but she'd been having so much fun at the bar with Rufus and Jiya that he hadn't wanted to say anything that would cut the night short. It wasn't until she and Jiya were actively trying to get a terrified Rufus to join them onstage for karaoke that he suggested calling it a night. A grateful Rufus had left with a cackling Jiya, and Wyatt had tasked himself with making sure Lucy got home in one piece.

Lucy giggles as she drops the keys for the third time. Wyatt ducks down and grabs them, easily unlocking her front door. He offers her his arm once again, and she rolls her eyes, taking it nonetheless.

"I'm not that drunk," she insists with a dramatic sweeping hand gesture, "you didn't have to walk me home."

He smirks in return. "Well for one thing I just live across the street, so it's not exactly out of my way. And you should thank me, you'd probably still be out there trying to unlock your door when the sun comes up."

Lucy makes a face at him and moves away from him further into her apartment.

"Are you going to be—" he begins to ask, only to be cut off when Lucy reaches for the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head with a surprising deftness for someone who had been unable to hold a set of keys just moments before. He catches a glimpse of pale skin and a purple bra and underwear set. " _Lucy_!"

Wyatt pivots into a full one-eighty, and shuts his eyes briefly. He can hear Lucy snicker behind him.

"What? It's nothing you haven't seen before on a mission."

"Different circumstances, Lucy," he points out, sounding a little strangled to even his own ears. "Go get dressed."

He can hear her shuffle into her bedroom, still laughing. When he hears the door latch he shakes his head and moves to her bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to locate some ibuprofen. He shakes two into his hand and fills a glass with water from the tap. He figures the least he can do is set things up so that she won't be completely miserable the next day.

When he returns from the bathroom, Lucy is back and fully dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and pair of shorts. He dutifully ignores how long her legs look when they are bare and instead chooses to focus on the fact that she's now inexplicably wrestling with a bag of flour.

"Lucy," he quirks an eyebrow, "what are you doing?"

"Making cookies," is her short reply, as though that was answer enough.

"It's almost three in the morning."

"What's your point?" she asks as she sets about preheating the oven.

Lucy is stubborn even on the best of days, but doubly so when she's had a few drinks. Wyatt quirks an eyebrow. "My point is why are you making cookies at three in the morning when you can barely stand?"

Lucy pauses, looking momentarily perplexed. "It's…it's what Amy and I used to do after a night out."

 _Oh_.

Lucy now looks as though the realization of what she's doing is dawning on her, and he can see the darkness creeping in from the edges. She freezes in place waits for the dreaded sympathetic understanding she receives from most people, the gentle reminder that Amy is gone, that she never existed in this timeline. He says nothing. She starts to lower the bag of flour, and in a split second decision, Wyatt pulls it gently from her hands and opens a drawer to pull out a measuring cup.

"We're gonna need a bowl," he instructs her as he opens the bag.

"What are you doing?" she asks in confusion.

He looks at her as though it's obvious. "Making cookies. Are you going to grab a bowl?"

She studies him for a long moment, and then Lucy complies, shuffling around the kitchen and pulling out all the things he asks for. Bowls. Pans. Butter. Milk. Eggs. She hands him everything and hops up to sit on the counter beside him, watching as he carefully measures and mixes the ingredients into the bowl. Wyatt glances up at her watching the bowl intently and looks amused.

"Are you always this big of a help?" he teases.

Lucy smiles and lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "Amy usually did most of the work when it came to baking. She's always been the better cook out of the two of us."

"Why cookies?" he asks as she hands him the chocolate chips. "After a night out I usually go for pizza or something greasy."

"'s never about eating the cookies," she says thoughtfully, tossing back a few chocolate chips she's managed to weasel out of the bag. Half of them miss her mouth completely, but she doesn't seem to mind. She laughs a little and admits, "Honestly we usually ended up forgetting about them and burning them. It was more about just having fun."

He smiles at her in understanding. She looks lost in memory for a moment, mechanically tossing back more chocolate chips. She leans back a bit too far to try and catch them and starts to tilt backwards. Absentmindedly, Wyatt puts a gentle hand on her knee to guide her back forward. He's too busy greasing the pan to notice the soft, grateful smile she sends his way.

"Where did you learn to do this?" she asks suddenly, feeling curious.

"Jessica made me learn," is his reply. She watches him closely for the signs of withdrawal and sadness usually brought on by the mention of his wife, but is surprised to find none, only a fond remembrance. "When we first started dating I couldn't cook at all. Mostly I took her out to restaurants or she cooked. When we got engaged, she told me that there was no way she was going to be the only one cooking for us for the rest of our lives. So she taught me. Took a few classes with me too."

"You took cooking classes?" she asks, sounding a both incredulous and impressed.

He pauses and looks up with a grin. "Yes ma'am. Best lemon cake in my class."

Lucy seems to process this for a moment. When Wyatt begins to scoop the dough out of the bowl she grabs his arm. "No wait! You have to grate the chocolate. This is the best part."

She runs to the fridge and grabs a chocolate bar. She returns with the bar and a cheese grater and carefully begins to grate the chocolate bar into the dough. "This was Amy's idea," she tells him excitedly. "You've never had chocolate chip cookies until you've tried Amy's recipe."

She manages to do most of it herself (he helps once or twice when her hands slip, for fear of her cutting herself) while explaining the ins and outs of Amy's preferred method of cookie making. When she's finished and they've filled up the pan and placed it in the oven, Lucy says softly, "Sometimes I worry I'll forget stuff like this."

He gives her a questioning look and she elaborates, "How Amy liked her cookies. How we used to do this together. Nobody but me remembers her, and sometimes I worry that I'll start to forget too."

"You won't," he assures her. There's a long pause before he adds, "We never forget people we love."

"But what if I do?" she whispers, a quiver of fear evident in her voice.

"You can't," he says, his voice both gentle and firm. "She's what you're fighting for, remember?"

Lucy nods thoughtfully. She's reminded of a time not so long ago (and yet decades ago, her life has gotten so strange) when her hands had shaken and she'd felt like running. He had been there too, reminding her to find something to keep herself grounded. She looks back up at him and her fingers reach out suddenly to brush against the side of his face, her fingers lingering on his cheek. Wyatt freezes instantly, thrown by both the gentle touch and the way it makes his heart speed up in his chest. He knows the surprise he feels must show on his face, because her fingers curl back almost instantly and she looks a little embarrassed.

"You have flour on your cheek," she mumbles. She slides down from her perch and throws him an apologetic smile. "I'm going to go sit down until the cookies are done."

He watches her pad into the living room and flop down onto the couch. He closes his eyes for a moment, wishing he hadn't startled her. He starts to clean up the mess as best he can. When he's done, he grabs a notepad off the fridge and begins to write as much as he can recall. He leaves it on the counter where he knows she'll find it and removes the cookies from the oven. When the oven is off and the cookies have cooled a bit, he goes to the living room to let her know they're done. He finds her curled on the couch, fast asleep and snoring lightly. He suppresses a laugh and pulls the blanket off the back of her couch. He makes sure she's well covered and shut off all the lights, stopping only to grab a cookie on his way out the door.

When he gets home, he pauses in front of his bathroom mirror, remembering that he still hasn't wiped away the flour she'd pointed out on his cheek. He raises his sleeve to wipe it away, but when he leans closer to the mirror he realizes he can't find a trace of flour anywhere on his face.

* 

When Lucy wakes in the morning with a pounding headache, she opens her eyes to find a glass of water and two painkillers sitting on her coffee table.

 _Wyatt_ , she thinks with a rush of affection, and she decides then and there that she absolutely owes him a coffee today.

She takes them gratefully and downs her water before moving mechanically into her kitchen for more. On her counter is a plate of cookies, wrapped up carefully in cellophane.

On the counter beside it is her notepad, something scribbled onto the page. She picks it up and squints at the top of the page.

Amy's Chocolate Chip Cookies.

There's a detailed list underneath of ingredients and instructions, and she can tell he wrote them verbatim, because there are asides and ramblings written in the margins ("Let cook for twenty minutes or until you smell smoke from the oven." "Never try substituting the milk with kahlua. It sounds like a good idea but it's not."). Her glass of water is momentarily forgotten, and she holds the recipe to her chest for a moment, feeling an ache for her sister and a relief that she's holding something solid, something tied to Amy.

 _Amy was real,_ she reminds herself. _I'm going to get Amy back._

She takes a deep breath and pins it on the fridge in between her only remaining picture of Amy and a picture of her, Wyatt, Rufus, and Jiya smiling and crammed into a booth at their favourite pub. Her eyes linger a moment on Wyatt's face, and she finds herself reaching for her phone.

He picks up on the second ring. "You're alive."

"You aren't going to make me eat all these by myself, right?"

Later, she'll be glad he isn't there to see the way her face brightens at his laugh. "No ma'am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: If it wasn't super clear in the text, Wyatt couldn't find any flour on his face at the end because there never was any there to begin with.
> 
> Side note: I definitely have a thing for Wyatt calling her "ma'am", if that wasn't already obvious.
> 
> Reviews are loved because they keep me motivated :)


	3. Sink or swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a close call, and Wyatt realizes he might be completely screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Been an insane week but I really wanted to get this chapter up tonight. This chapter has a bit more angst, but there's always some fluff to be found. The next update will be more from Lucy's perspective and we'll be seeing more of Rufus and Jiya. Hope you enjoy!

The kind of day they have can usually be determined by the way they exit the Lifeboat.

Agent Christopher gives them a strange look when they step out of the Lifeboat soaking wet and looking exhausted, but miraculously she doesn't make them stay long for debriefing. Wyatt suspects Rufus might have tipped her off about what had happened, or it's possible that Lucy shivering despite having changed her clothes may have made the senior agent more charitable in letting them leave early.

He drives Lucy home; they had carpooled that morning since her car was at the mechanic. It's only been ten hours in present time since they had made the drive to Mason Industries together, but they had spent a whole two days in the past. Coupled with the incident shortly before they'd returned, it feels like a life time ago that he had watched her slide into his passengers seat, handing him a coffee with a bright smile.

He glances sideways at her once on the way home, but she's staring straight ahead with a clenched jaw and glassy eyes. Her hair is still damp and curling. He feels a pang of guilt and focuses back on the road, continuing the drive in silence. When he pulls up to her apartment, he watches her get out of the car. He hesitates, unsure, but she pauses on her way towards the front door, looking over her shoulder at him with an expectant look. He knows her well enough to know what that look means.

_Follow me._

He does.

When they reach her apartment, she moves straight into the bathroom without a word, shutting the door behind her. He watches her go and then moves into the kitchen, grabbing mugs and tea from where he knows she keeps them stashed. If he can still feel the chill of the water, he's sure she can too. He waits for the water to boil and scrubs a hand over his tired eyes. There are never really good days when your job is to chase people through time and prevent terrible things from happening. There are, however, definitely bad days.

Today had been a bad day.

 

 

Inside the bathroom, Lucy grips the edge of her sink and takes a steadying breath. She's home, in the present, in her apartment. Yet she can't quite shake the feelings of her chest burning, of the terrifying free fall and crushing blackness. She closes her eyes and is overwhelmed by the memories.

_The ship is on fire, and they've run out of time._

_She turns to signal Rufus, who's waiting for the signal on the banks of the shore. She stops short when she nearly runs right into a man standing behind her. Her stomach drops. One of Emma's men. He grins maliciously, but before she can bolt she feels his arm go around her waist and her feet leave the deck. She kicks and hits at every bit of skin she can find, but it doesn't seem to matter. He drags her over to the side._

He's throwing me over, _she realizes in horror, and then she is airborne. She thinks she can hear someone shout her name right before she hits the water, but the rush of the water is deafening._

_The water is freezing, even for December. It's also murky, but she can see the fire from the ship lighting the surface above her head. She starts to swim toward it, only to find she's unable to make any progress. She kicks upwards with more force, only to find that the surface seems even further away._

_No. Oh no._

_The layers of her stupid dress are too heavy, she realizes with horror; she's being dragged downwards. She kicks frantically, hoping her heavy boots will be kicked off in the process, anything to lighten the weight threatening to drag her down further. Panic grips her throat. She tugs desperately at her dress to no avail. She's going to drown. She had escaped a sinking car and a drowning death years ago only to meet the same fate in a cold harbour in 1773._

_Her chest is burning, blackness creeping in on her vision. Her lungs are screaming to inhale._

_No. No no no no no._

_This is it. She's going to die here._

_Something seizes the back of her dress, and suddenly she's weightless, being dragged towards the surface. The second her head breaches the surface she sucks in the cold night air, choking and gasping. Her head feels like it's filled with static, and her limbs are like dead-weights. The only thing keeping her afloat is the warm presence behind her. She lets herself be dragged backwards through the water, too tired to protest. And then, finally, her back hits solid ground._

_Lucy._

_She feels something tugging at her midsection, and someone must have loosened her corset because now_ _she can breathe as easily as she wants. She turns her head and coughs up more water, her body wracking with the effort._

_"Lucy?"_

_There's gentle fingers in her hair, brushing it away from her face. She opens her eyes to a blur of colour and night sky. When her eyes finally focus, Wyatt and Rufus' faces swim into view._

_"Oh thank god," Rufus says, leaning back in relief._

_Wyatt says nothing, still searching her face. Drops of water stream off his hair in rivulets, his blue eyes wide with fear and fixed on hers._

_"It's okay," he tells her, his fingers still in her hair and his thumb brushing soothingly over her cheekbone. "You're okay."_

_The ship is burning in the harbour and her lungs still burn, but she believes him._

 

Lucy shakes her head with a deep breath.

 _You're okay_ , she reminds herself. She can hear Wyatt moving around in the kitchen and straightens up. It had been a bad day, but they had lots of bad days. They had all come back in one piece and that, she tells herself firmly, is what matters. She steps into the shower and begins to scrub the day off her skin.

*

 

 

Wyatt steals a glance at the bathroom door. She's been in the shower for ten minutes now, but he hasn't heard anything to indicate something is off. He sits down on her couch with a mug and feels the weight of the day press down on him.

He had been lucky to find her in the water, being weighted down by that ridiculous dress. She'd been barely conscious when he had found her, no longer trying to reach the surface. That in itself had been terrifying. He'd had to rip part of the outer skirt off her dress in hopes of easing the swim back to the surface. It had worked, but the swim to shore had felt like it had taken forever. The fact that he had heard the sounds of her coughing when they had reached the surface had been the only thing keeping him from panicking completely.

Once on the shore, Rufus had helped him cut the strings of her corset so she could breathe easier. The relief he'd felt when she'd finally opened her eyes had been overwhelming, and he'd found himself unable to stop touching her. Her hair, her face, her arms; anything to reassure himself she was okay, that he hadn't been too late. He'd noticed Rufus giving him looks out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he'd looped her arm over his shoulder and helped her walk on shaky feet back to the Lifeboat.

It had been a bad day, but not all of it. Lucy would be okay.

Eventually, Lucy emerges from the bathroom in a tank top and a pair of sweats and breaks him out of this thoughts. She walks barefoot into the living room, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch. Wrapping it around her body, she curls up on the opposite end of the couch from him. He passes her a mug and she takes it gratefully, sighing at the heat permeating her still frozen fingers. She takes a sip and closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the back of the couch. Wyatt watches her, noting the way she sinks into the couch in her exhaustion. Her lips are no longer purple, but she's still noticeably paler than usual.

 _You should have gotten there sooner,_ part of him whispers.

As though she can sense his inner turmoil, her eyes open. "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asks, feigning confusion.

"Blame yourself," she whispers. "You saved my life today."

He considers brushing it off with a joke, but finds he can't when he sees her concern. For him. Like she wasn't the one who had almost died. "You never should have gone overboard," he says, his fists clenching and unclenching against his jeans. "I should have been watching—"

"You were doing your job," she cuts him off gently. "You were going after Emma. That's our main concern."

 _It's not mine_ , he thinks immediately, and the realization of it makes guilt surge through him. He's been compromised, and he knows it. He has a job to do, an important one. And yet the second he had seen her disappear over the edge of the ship, Emma and Rittenhouse had been an afterthought, replaced by a paralyzing fear for Lucy. He doesn't even remember running the length of the ship to dive in after her. He had fully expected Agent Christopher to give him hell for letting Emma escape when they'd been so close, but she had only given him a strange, appraising look, telling him that she could hardly fault him for saving a member of his team. He senses there's more of that conversation to be had, but he's also pretty sure that she's given him some time before it comes.

"Yeah," is all he says, hoping she'll leave it at that. He's too tired and too emotionally drained to think about what it all means just yet. He looks for a change in subject, and remembers his earlier sweep of the apartment.

"I think you should install better security," he tells her, nodding towards the bolt and chain on her door.

"You live across the street," she points out, looking surprised by the change in topic, "and this building has security cameras in all the hallways."

"I know, but still, after what happened today… We still aren't sure exactly where Emma's loyalties lie," he continues, "but Lucy, if Emma _is_ loyal to Rittenhouse and her man threw you overboard like that…"

"You think Rittenhouse might be after me now," she finishes for him.

Wyatt looks serious. "I don't know. I know your biological father is big deal to them and that they consider you one of their own, but we did supply a lot of damaging evidence that helped send a lot of people to jail. This could be a retaliation."

"I thought about that too," she admits. "And I've been thinking…I want to learn how to fight."

Her voice is steely and certain. He can tell she's been thinking about it for longer than just today, because she takes his silence to continue with determination, "Maybe not Delta Force level skills, but self defense at least. You can't be everywhere at once. Emma got away because you were too busy saving me. And time travel is dangerous, anything could happen to any of us at any time." He tries to ignore how his stomach lurches at that thought, and she says, "I want to be prepared. I know you might not agree—"

"I think it's a great idea," he says. On a better day, he might laugh at the way her eyes widen in surprise, comical in comparison to her earlier resolve.

"Really?"

"Of course," he said firmly. "I can show you some manoeuvres, or I have an old Army buddy who specializes in hand to hand and self defense and she owes me a favor, if you'd rather someone else."

"No," she says with a shake of her head. "I trust you."

It shouldn't mean so much to hear that, but it does. He promises they'll start when she's feeling better, and she seems satisfied by his answer. They lapse into comfortable silence and Lucy puts on an old sitcom with the volume low. It's soothing, the black and white and softened voices. He leans back into the couch cushions and she stretches out her legs, her feet bumping into the side of his thigh.

"Sorry," she whispers, withdrawing them and sending him a sleepy, apologetic smile.

He shakes his head with a hint of a smirk and cups a hand around her calves, bringing her legs back so that she can stretch out fully. She gives him a grateful look and turns back her attention back to the TV. The whole thing is weirdly domestic; he feels like that should bother him, but it doesn't. It's kind of peaceful and comforting, particularly after the day they've had. Wyatt watches TV until his eyelids feel heavy. He should go home, crawl into bed, but he doesn't want to leave just yet. He looks over to see Lucy still awake but looking serene. She sees him looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes and smiles softly.

 _Beautiful_ , he thinks, feeling himself starting to drift.

His last thought before he succumbs to sleep is that he's totally and completely screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't convince me Wyatt Possibilities Logan won't be the first one to realize he has *feelings*. Next chapter will be more lighthearted!
> 
> Feedback is so greatly appreciated! :)


	4. Of presents and plumbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy plans a surprise for Wyatt, and Jiya is more perceptive than Lucy would like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you for being patient with me in regards to updates; I'm in the midst of my second degree, and so updates for this are written in between papers and presentations. Also thank you to all the lovely people who take time to leave comments...you guys always put a smile on my face. Really hope you enjoy this one, only 2 chapters left to go!

Lucy doesn't have much experience planning covert operations. She's always been the academic, the researcher, part of the brain trust, but never the one to formulate the big plan and put in motion. She is, however, one hell of an organizer and she's been planning for a week now; all in all she's pretty pleased with what she, Rufus, and Jiya had come up with on such short notice. They might actually pull this off.

Provided, of course, that Wyatt doesn't pick up on the fact that they've all been shifty and evading him the past few days. Wyatt _is_ Delta Force after all; if anyone was going to figure out that they were up to something, it would be him. Which would be detrimental to the plan, to be honest. Surprise birthdays were hard enough to plan for civilians; Wyatt was a whole other level.

She just hopes he'll be okay with it. After all, he hasn't bothered to mention his birthday even once over the past few weeks. If Jiya hadn't pointed it out to her while handling his file the week before, she wouldn't have even known when his birthday was. Lucy is beginning to worry that maybe he doesn't celebrate his birthday at all.

That, however, hadn't stopped her from deciding that they had to do _something_ for him. She had considered a number of possibilities, including going out to the pub or even inviting some of his army buddies, but in the end she decides to play it safe and throw a small get together at her apartment just in case he actually _doesn't_ like to celebrate his birthday. It may be low-key, but she hopes he'll appreciate the effort just the same.

And a part of her really just wants to do something to cheer him up. They've had a particularly tiring two weeks chasing Emma and Rittenhouse, and she is starting to suspect something might be going on with Wyatt. He's been acting a bit strange with her the past few weeks, and she's not sure if it's something she did or if he's just feeling worn out. Whatever the case, she thinks maybe a relaxing evening with friends might do him some good.

So when she gets home from work that night, she calls him up under the guise of needing some help fixing the leak under her bathroom sink. It's not a _total_ lie; her sink has been leaking recently, but she had done some research and already done a pretty good job patching it up herself. Still, she knows Wyatt well enough to know he won't be able to resist the lure of a friend in need.

Sure enough, when she swings open the door at his knock ten minutes later, he's holding a tool box and case of her favourite beer. She feels her heart quicken at the thoughtfulness—it's _his_ birthday, and he's bringing _her_ something special—but is distracted a second later by the sounds of Rufus and Jiya behind her.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they cheer.

Confetti floats down to land in his hair and Wyatt looks temporarily stunned. His eyes dart to where she is waiting with anticipation for his reaction, and then he smiles broadly. Lucy feels as though someone momentarily sucked the oxygen out of the room. Wyatt is handsome even when he's scowling or otherwise miserable during a mission, but when he smiles—

Well, she thinks as she beams in return, there's no preparing someone for that.

Jiya grabs him in a hug, cheerfully teasing, "You really didn't think you could hide your birthday from us, did you?"

"Uh, of course not," he says sheepishly.

Rufus pats him on the back, "Happy birthday, buddy."

Wyatt looks to where she is waiting and she steps forward to give him a hug of her own. When she pulls back she grips his shoulders and asks anxiously, "You were surprised, right? You had no idea?"

"I had no idea," he agrees solemnly, and she can't quite tell if he's being honest or trying to save her feelings. He looks serious, but she's fairly certain she can see the corner of his mouth curving upwards almost imperceptibly.

Or maybe it's just that the grave expression on his face is offset by the colourful confetti  peppering his hair. If he really did know in advance, she can't find it in herself to be upset. It only means that he played along for their benefit. She reaches up to brush the confetti away and is startled at the way his amusement turns into something much softer at her touch.

"Cake time!" Jiya says excitedly, disappearing into the kitchen. The sudden reminder of their friends is enough to make Lucy's face heat up.

"Oh right, cake," she mutters with a small laugh. She takes a large step back from him.

"There's cake?" Wyatt asks, looking hesitant. He eyes Lucy. "Who made it?"

"My mom, actually," Rufus supplies helpfully, handing Wyatt a beer. "She makes them from scratch. I know I'm biased, but they're amazing."

Lucy rolls her eyes at Wyatt's look of relief and resists the urge to stick her tongue out.

"Lucy, I can't find a lighter!" Jiya calls from the kitchen.

"Second drawer down to the left of the oven, in behind the spatulas," Wyatt answers before she can respond, his focus on popping the cap off his bottle.

Rufus shoots her a look with raised eyebrows at the ease with which Wyatt had responded. Lucy avoids his knowing look and makes her way to Jiya, who is already lighting the candles.

"Second drawer to the left, huh?" Jiya smirks, not taking her focus off the candles. "Just how often is he here, anyway?"

"The normal amount," she replies somewhat defensively, her arms crossing at Jiya's amused tone. She already knows what Jiya is getting at; she's been on the receiving end of both her and Rufus' knowing stares and seemingly innocuous comments for a few weeks. She knows people are starting to find it strange how much time they spend together when they aren't at work. She wonders if Wyatt has been on the receiving end of it too. When Jiya sends her a disbelieving look, Lucy sighs, "It's not like that."

"You sure?" she asks lightly. "Because his face sure lit up when he walked in here, and I'm honestly not sure he even noticed Rufus and I at first."

Lucy opens her mouth but hesitates, unsure how to respond. Jiya takes the opportunity to push the  cake into her hands.

"Here," she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. "You take it out."

Lucy opts to say nothing and follows Jiya back to the living room where Wyatt and Rufus are talking. She balances the chocolate cake carefully in both hands and carries it until she stands in front of him. His blue eyes seem brighter than normal, illuminated by the candles.

"Make a wish," she murmurs.

His eyes flick up to meet hers briefly and she can see a look of contemplation cross is face before he blows out the candles. She looks pleased, and carries it back to the kitchen to cut it.

"What did you wish for?" Rufus asks.

"I'm not supposed to say," he says, his eyes trailing after Lucy. "Don't want to jinx it, right?"

*

Following cake they give Wyatt his presents. Rufus and Jiya give him a--mostly--joke gift with a manual on how to use science to make weapons out of everyday items. Lucy gives him a book about the history of British spies in the US and the role they played in getting America to join the second world war, which he thumbs through with fascination. Agent Christopher, though she couldn't make it, has generously sent along a bottle of scotch—and a paper clip, which Wyatt laughs at, though Lucy isn't sure why it's significant. It's the quiet moments like this that she loves. Maybe it is odd that she spends so much of her free time with people she works with, but it's times like this where her apartment feels less like a reminder of how much everything in her life has changed and more like home.

Eventually it's time for Jiya and Rufus to leave, with Jiya hinting ominously that they should probably prepare for a call from Agent Christopher in the morning. They bid the other two goodnight, and when the door closes behind them, Lucy is acutely aware of Wyatt's presence in her otherwise empty apartment.

"So there was no leak," he states, grinning at her out of the corner of his eye. "Awfully crafty, Lucy Preston."

"Actually," she grins slyly. "There was this morning. I just fixed it myself. Mostly anyway."

His brows raise but he looks impressed nonetheless. "Mostly?" he teases.

"Well it's just a temporary fix. There's still a little bit of leakage, so I'm probably going to have to call a plumber at some point and get the pipe replaced," she concludes.

"Do you want me to take a quick look?" he offers. "I might be able to tell you if you if you can get a patch rather than spend money on a whole new pipe."

"If you want," she shrugs, and she leads him into the bathroom and opens up the cupboards to give him better access.

Wyatt shrugs out of his green plaid shirt to reveal a charcoal grey t-shirt underneath. Lucy opts to pretend she doesn't notice the way his shirt fits snuggly around his chest and shoulders. Instead she shines her flashlight in and watches as he inspects her handiwork.

"You did a good job," he acknowledges. "Where'd you learn to do this?"

"I just read about it today when I saw the leak and tried it myself," she admits.

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," he chuckles, his voice a bit muffled from inside the sink. "You're right that you've got a little bit of water still coming out, but I think tightening it just a bit more ought to do it."

He sticks his head back out long enough for her to hand him the proper wrench and he disappears back under her sink.

"I'm sorry if this isn't the birthday you were expecting," she said with a small laugh. "I know it wasn't much, but—"

Wyatt tilts his head to meet her gaze full on. "Lucy, it was great."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled, turning the wrench slightly to the right. "I actually prefer my birthdays to be low-key. Except for that one time I let my army buddy Miller plan it and he took 'a few friends' to mean a block party with uh, hired entertainment." At her barked laugh he grins. "But I won't hold you to his standard."

Lucy snorts. "Right, well next time I'll be sure to pop out of the cake."

His hand slips suddenly and he knows he's turned the wrench the wrong way the second the spray of water hits his face. He jerks in surprise and groans when his forehead collides with the edge of the cupboard door. Lucy lurches forward to tighten the pipe and stop the flow of water while Wyatt leans back with a laugh.

"Talk about a birthday present," he mutters, pressing his hand to his forehead.

"Here, let me see," she insists, her small hand moving up to cover his. She pulls his hand away from his forehead to find a small cut directly above his left eyebrow.

"How bad is it?" he asks in mock seriousness.

She reaches under the sink until she finds a box of bandaids and pulls one out of the packaging. "You'll live," she assures him, sitting up on her knees for a better vantage point. "Sit still."

Wyatt does as he's told and sits perfectly still, watching the way she bites the corner of her lip as she puts the adhesive bandage in place. Her thumbs smooth over the bandage to make sure it will stay, and Wyatt's eyes close at the gentle pressure. When he opens them a moment later, Lucy is frozen above him with a curious expression, her hands still framing his face.

Lucy watches his face grow serious under her gaze, and she feels almost lightheaded. People frequently like to make comments about her relationship with Wyatt, and she shrugs them off every time, insisting that it's nothing, that they are just friends. But it's times like this, when it's just the two of them, that she wonders if maybe they have a point. It's not just that Wyatt is attractive--because of course he is, she's not blind--but that he's the only constant, steady thing in her life. If she's honest, he's sort of become her best friend. She feels lighter when he's around, and when he was practically MIA from her life outside work the past few weeks she missed him with an intensity that surprised even herself. He's the first person she thinks to call on bad days _and_ good days. Sometimes she doesn't even have to pick up the phone. Sometimes he just  _knows_. And all of that is important enough to her that she typically ignores the way her stomach flutters when he looks at her, or how sometimes she would like nothing more than to just reach out and touch him.

And then there are times where she doesn't want to ignore it at all.  

She realizes then that she is no longer still, but leaning forward so gradually that she is barely moving at all. She waits for him to pull away, to give her a sign that she's making a mistake or crossing a line. But he doesn't. Instead his gaze shifts from her eyes to her lips and her heart begins to race. Emboldened, she starts to dip her head, her eyes beginning to drift closed—

The sudden sound of his ringtone causes her to move back sharply, and she thinks can see the disappointment on his face before he fishes his phone out of his pocket. The moment is broken, and she feels her face flush with embarassment.

"Hello?" he says somewhat roughly into the phone, his attention shifting away from her.

Lucy takes the opportunity to climb to her feet and quickly to mop up the remaining water off the floor with a towel. She carries the tools back out to the living room and drop them into the box before allowing the gravity of the situation sink in.

 _Oh god, what was I thinking?_ She presses her palms to her eyes for a moment. The last thing she wants to do was make things awkward between them. She's still berating herself when a moment later he appears in the doorway of the bathroom, looking a bit unsure of himself.

"That was Agent Christopher," he explains.

"Emma?" she asks apprehensively.

Wyatt shakes his head. "Not yet, but they have reason to believe that they might have narrowed down what her next move might be. They want us in early tomorrow morning for a briefing."

Lucy steals a glance at the clock with a reluctant sigh. Of course.

"Guess that means I should head out," he adds with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. She studies his face closely and she's almost certain now that he does look disappointed. Interesting.

"Yeah of course," she chirps with false brightness. She walks him to the front door. Before she can lose her nerve, she leans in and presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Wyatt," she murmurs, and she quickly shuts the door behind her so he can't see her face flush once again.

"Thank you, ma'am," he whispers in the quiet of the hallway, grinning foolishly at her front door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy 'Heart Eyes' Preston strikes again. Also, I firmly believe Lucy is the type of nerd to research a problem and tackle it herself rather than call a professional.
> 
> Reviews are loved!


	5. Of movies and midnight calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy watches a movie she's been putting off, and Wyatt goes out of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I got a part time job on top of going to classes for my second degree, so I was short on time. That said, the final chapter is half written already.
> 
> Also, since Wyatt isn't technically present at Lucy's apartment in this one, I sort of cheated ;)

Lucy wouldn't have watched the damn thing if it hadn't been for movie night.

She isn't even certain when movie night became an official thing. She thinks it may have started after their trip back to Salem in the late 1600s. She remembers the night clearly, because she'd tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep without picturing the face of the young girl on trial. Wyatt had shown up at her apartment shortly after midnight that night, claiming he was too keyed up to sleep and wanting to know if she wanted to watch a movie. Lucy still suspects that the real reason was because he could see she had all her apartment lights on from across the street. After that, however, Wyatt had started to show up for movies more often, usually with Rufus and sometimes Jiya in tow.

Last time had been Rufus' turn to pick. _Rogue One_ had just finished and the four of them had been sitting around talking when the inevitable had come up.

_"I can't believe you haven't seen it."_

_Wyatt's voice made her look up from the popcorn she was in the process of buttering. She rolled her eyes in exasperation._

_"How have you not seen it?" Rufus asked incredulously. "It's about us!"_

_"Believe it or not, the last thing I wanted to do after infiltrating a Nazi base was watch a movie about the same Nazis," she pointed out, flopping down beside Wyatt on the couch. He took the bowl from her hand and grabbed a handful. "It was stressful enough the first time. Though I'm sure you couldn't wait to add it to your Bond collection, Wyatt."_

_To her surprise, Wyatt seemed to backtrack and shrugged. "Wasn't my favourite, actually."_

_"Well I watched it right away," Rufus admitted. "Weapon of Choice really was Connery's best. Also in the movie my character builds a gadget that Bond uses to turn a Nazi to dust…it's awesome."_

_"If it makes you feel better, I've never seen it either," Jiya told Lucy. She grinned and added, "But I have to know...did Bond end up with Lucy?"_

_"Bond never really ends up with any of his love interests," Rufus pointed out. "Not for long anyway. But in the film, Bond does sleep with Lucy..."_

_Lucy groaned and buried her face in her palms. Of course._

_"...after they resolve the love triangle."_

_Lucy looked up sharply from her hands. "What love triangle?"_

_Now it was Wyatt's turn to look embarrassed. Lucy didn't miss the way he suddenly found the label of his drink very interesting. Her eyes narrowed._

_"Wyatt?" she prompted._

_"In the film, uh," he cleared his throat, "Wyatt is...into Lucy."_

Oh.  _Lucy quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression. "Really?"_

_"Oh yeah," Rufus supplied. "There's a whole plotline about how jealous the Wyatt character is of Bond and Lucy's chemistry. There's even a love confession, but ultimately she turns him down in favor of Bond."_

_Jiya choked on her drink at that, and while Rufus was patting her back, Lucy stole a glance at Wyatt, who had gone decidedly pink in the face._

_"Flemming took some liberties," he muttered._

_"Huh," is all she said._

She hadn't said much else for the rest of the evening, caught up in thought.Wyatt had pushed for another movie that night, but they had ended up calling it an early night. Typically, tonight would have been the next meet up. Only Wyatt had gotten called away to base for a few days. He'd been asked to oversee a training exercise, and Agent Christopher had let him go with the condition that he keep his phone with him in the event of an emergency time jump. In his absence, Rufus decided to take Jiya out for date night and Lucy had resigned herself to a night in by herself with a bottle of wine and Netflix.

When a familiar looking Bond movie pops up in her queue, she pauses with her glass halfway to her mouth and eyes the title thoughtfully. She remembers the way Wyatt had shifted uncomfortably at their discussion and finds herself clicking the title before she can talk herself out of it. Draping a blanket across her lap, she settles back into her couch cushions, watching the opening credits intently.

The film, as it turns out, isn't actually _that_ bad.  Rufus' character is pretty accurate, though his technological abilities have been exaggerated a bit. She's mildly impressed at how they've portrayed her—with the exception of all the fawning over Bond, her character is smart and capable. Maybe _too_ capable. When her character neatly dispatches two Nazi soldiers and resumes her cover without batting an eye, Lucy wonders if that's really how Ian Flemming had thought of her. If so, he hadn't been paying attention. She thinks back to the way her hands had shaken as she'd dressed herself in the Nazi uniform, the way her mind had raced. In the end, the only reason she'd had the courage to step foot in that castle was because Wyatt had noticed her falling apart and encouraged her to find something to fight for. She'd been drowning and he had tossed her a lifeline in the form of Amy. She thinks the movie would be better if the filmmakers had known that.

She could almost forgive some of the liberties taken with her and Rufus and the way things went down, but Wyatt however, she feels is horribly miscast. For one thing, the actor has brown eyes, rather than deep blue. His face is too narrow, jaw line not square enough. For another, his character keeps giving hers loaded, longing looks and she is fairly certain that that's _not_ how Wyatt looks at her.

Except the moment she thinks that, she recalls the night of his birthday three weeks before and the way he'd looked at her when she'd knelt above him, patching up his scrape. She had almost kissed him that night. They haven't talked about it since, but she had thought about it long after he had left. She knows deep down that she would have, if Agent Christopher hadn't interrupted. She pushes the thought to the back of her mind and leans forward with her elbows on her knees, watching the action onscreen.

When Bond and movie-Wyatt argue about the course of action, she laughs quietly, wishing he was here so that she could point out that at least they got his bull-headedness right. She decides that Flemming had gotten the basics of Wyatt right—the stubbornness, the bravery, the willingness to get the job done—but she thinks he missed all the important parts. Flemming hadn't been there for the quieter moments, like his childlike excitement over meeting his literary hero or the soft understanding and kindness he'd shown her when she was panicking. The author may have gotten the soldier aspect of Wyatt mostly right, but he had missed everything else.

When the credits roll just after midnight, Lucy finds herself in a strange mood, feeling almost restless. She should be tired after the long day she's had, but instead she feels wide awake, thinking about that stupid movie. Her apartment also feels strangely empty tonight, almost like it's larger than normal. She sets about tidying her apartment, but finds there isn't much to do. She could try to go to bed and toss and turn for a while, but that's hardly appealing.

She scoops up her phone from off her kitchen counter and checks it on her way to her bedroom. No texts or messages. She scrolls through her social media feeds absently for a bit before she finds herself thumbing through her contacts for a familiar name.

She's not sure why she's calling. It's after midnight and odds are he's asleep, but she finds herself sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone pressed to her ear. She lightly chews her thumbnail and listens to the sound of the phone ring.

He picks up on the fifth ring, his voice laced with concern. "Lucy? Is everything okay?"

She instantly feels foolish for having called so late. He probably thinks there's an emergency, or Emma has gone and jumped through time again. She clears her throat awkwardly. "Yeah, everything is fine. I, uh, I just wanted to see how things were going. On your end, I mean."

_Smooth, Lucy._

There's a small pause on his end. When he speaks again he sounds a little amused. "As good as it can go being on base. Not much to do on down time. Rufus texted me and told me you guys cancelled movie night."

"Yeah, didn't seem right to have it without you. Besides I think Rufus has been waiting for a free night to take Jiya out to that new Japanese restaurant she keeps talking about."

She can hear movement on the other end, like the rustling of sheets. She realizes she must have caught him right before he went to bed.

"Good for Rufus. Jiya deserves a night out. What about you?"

"Me?"

"What did you do tonight?" he asks, stifling a yawn.

"I watched a movie anyway," she tells him.

"What did you watch?"

She laughs a little before she admits, "A favorite of yours. _Weapon of Choice_."

She laughs harder when she hears his groan come across the line. "Well," he says eventually, "what did you think?"

"It was…interesting," she shrugs, adjusting the phone so that it's cradled between her ear and her shoulder. "They definitely took some liberties."

"Like Rufus' ray gun?"

"That," she agrees with a snort, "and my character being a Bond obsessed super spy who lured the rocket scientist into a trap using seduction."

"What do you mean? I definitely recall you using your thighs to choke out a Nazi scientist," he deadpans.

She bursts out laughing as she recalls the ridiculous visual, and she can hear Wyatt's laughter on the other end. When the laughter subsides, she clears her throat and says, "You know I can see why you wouldn't have liked it. I think they did you a disservice."

She can hear the surprise in his voice when he says, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says. "I feel like they just didn't get your character right."

"I'd have to agree with that," he says slowly. "Although, I think they weren't too far off with a few things."

Lucy pauses, wondering if he's referring to the way he had been portrayed as having romantic feelings towards her or if she's simply over thinking it.

"I could have done without the part where I almost accidentally sold us out to the Nazis, though," he continues, breaking her reverie.

"You know," she says thoughtfully, "I think Flemming probably felt he had to write you that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she continues, half teasing half serious, "if he had written you as is, no one would have taken Bond seriously as the lead."

He laughs and she can hear the denial in his voice. "Nah, Bond is the main attraction. Plus, he gets the girl."

"Trust me," Lucy says with a small laugh, "Bond isn't the guy who gets the girl in real life."

There's silence on his end for a moment, and she worries she may have said too much. Eventually he asks softly, "Lucy, not that I mind, but why did you call?"

"I don't know. Couldn't sleep," she concedes, though she knows it's not the entire truth. After a while she admits, "Honestly, it's kind of weird without you here tonight. I keep expecting you to knock on the door."

"I miss you too."

He says it so firmly and honestly, that she swallows at the warmth in his voice. When she finds her own, she asks quietly, "When are you coming back?"

"In a few days, it looks like."

"Good," she says immediately. "That's good."

They lapse into comfortable silence for a bit before Wyatt begins to tell her about the antics of some of the younger guys on base. She settles against her pillows and listens to him talk, laughing quietly from time to time at his stories. She finds herself getting tired, and after her fourth or fifth yawn, he seems to notice.

"Go to bed, Lucy," he chuckles, his voice low in her ear.

"'m in bed," she mumbles, her eyes closed. She stifles another yawn, "Night Wyatt."

"Goodnight, Lucy."

 She hears the click of the line and drifts off to sleep, no longer restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and reviews are always appreciated!


	6. The unexpendables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a reckless move on Wyatt's part, Lucy finds herself at his place for the first time and gets more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> After a hellish exam season, this fic is finally coming to a close. Thank you so much to all those who've commented and left kudos and stuck with it to the end. I really hope you enjoy!

"This is kind of random, but have you ever actually seen inside of Wyatt's apartment?"

Lucy looks up from the tray of drinks she's carefully trying to extract her vanilla latte from and over at Rufus, who is currently driving them back to Mason Industries. Emma has been MIA for weeks now, and Agent Christopher has them coming in for meetings to try to figure out her next move. Three hours in, Rufus and Lucy had both volunteered to go on a much needed coffee run. She understands Agent Christopher's anticipation, however; it's been too long, and Lucy is starting to feel a sense of foreboding herself.

"Have I—what?" she asks, having been a bit distracted.

"I was just thinking…I've had you both over to mine, and we've all been to yours plenty of times. But I don’t think I've ever been to his place," Rufus shrugs. "I just thought maybe—"

"I'd been there?" she guesses. She can understand why he would think that. Wyatt only lives across the street, and is a near constant fixture at her place these days. It would make sense to think that she had been to his place once or twice over the past six months.

Except that she hasn't actually ever been to his home. Not once. Aside from an semi-embarrassing incident one night where she had accidentally gotten a glimpse of him working out through his open living room window--he still makes fun of her for that--she can only really guess as to what his apartment looked like. Wyatt has always come to her place or Rufus', but never invited either of them over. She has always tried not to take it personally. Wyatt is a very private person after all, and she's sure he just likes having a space to himself.

"No," she admits, trying her best to sound casual.

"Huh," Rufus says. After a pause he asks, "What do you think it's like?"

"I don't know," she admits. She taps her finger against the side of Wyatt's cup and contemplates. She shoots Rufus a small smile. "Maybe I'll ask."

Only, she never does get to ask. Lucy's sense of foreboding holds merit when Emma takes the Mothership out a few hours later, and the Time Team follows suit.

*

Wyatt isn't sure what he expected to find when he hears someone banging on his door late that night, but it isn't an angry Lucy Preston.

It's been a long day. Between the monotonous meetings at Mason Industries and the jump back to 1867 to follow Emma, he's certain that he's been awake for more than twenty-four hours at this point.

 _Plus,_ he thinks, adjusting his shoulder carefully, _the blood loss probably didn't help_.

Getting shot hadn't been part of the plan. It wasn't a major injury—more a deep graze than an entry wound. He'd been lucky to have still been standing side face when Emma had taken the shot; if he had been facing her dead on, it would have been a shot to the chest. Or worse, it would have hit her intended target—Lucy. He tries not to think of the brief, all-consuming panic he had felt when he had caught sight of Emma taking aim. Lucy—ever the optimist—had been trying to reason with Emma. But Emma was no Garcia Flynn; she didn't take the time to even pretend to consider Lucy's words. If Wyatt hadn't seen the twitch of her hand on her weapon and made a dive for Lucy, in time…

He scrubs a hand over his tired face and tries his best not to consider any 'what if' scenarios when the first rap at his door sounds. The knocking is loud and persistent. He swings open the door to find her standing on the other side, arm still raised in a knock.

She's upset.

Wyatt has been around Lucy long enough to know when she's upset, and the tense set of her mouth coupled with the way she's gone uncharacteristically silent are dead giveaways that something is wrong.

"Lucy? What are you doing here?" he asks.

"How come you've never invited me here? You've been to my place hundreds of times," she blurts out. It's not what she expected herself to say. Hell it's not even the reason she's there. As bizarre as she thinks it is that _that_ is the first thing to come out of her mouth, she feels like it's valid. Wyatt has been in her home so many times that he knew every inch of it. He knew where she kept all her things. He knew where the dent in the wall in the hallway had come from (a serious misjudgment of whether or not they could fit her new antique bookshelf in the hall). He knew why she had one window that didn't match the others (courtesy of tipsy Lucy, in an incident he still teases her about from time to time). He had slept on her couch and helped her fix her sink and cooked in her kitchen. She has invited him into her home--her life--in so many ways, but he hasn't once invited her into his. It's not the reason she has came, but she finds it fuels her anger nonetheless.

Wyatt looks taken aback for a split second before he steps aside, allowing her in.

Lucy moves into the apartment, momentarily forgetting her frustration in favor of taking in her surroundings. It's a nice place, cleanly kept but pretty sparsely decorated. It has all the essential furnishings, and yet there's barely any pictures or items to suggest that it's _Wyatt_ who lives here, and not any random person. It reminds her of an army barracks, and she is certain that that isn't a coincidence.

Wyatt watches her inspect his living room with curiosity. He sees her eye the space on his wall where the color varies and the faint outline of rectangles are visible. A remnant of the photos and newspaper clippings that once adorned the space and are now carefully tucked away in a drawer. He had put them away months ago, after a day spent barbequing with Lucy and Rufus at Rufus' mother's house. He had spent most of the day by the pool, laughing with Lucy and talking until the sun went down. When he had dropped her off at her place, he'd come home and sat on his couch, staring at the carefully arranged clippings with an odd sense of peace. He'd taken them down and put them away, sure that Jess would understand, that she would want him to find peace. He takes a deep breath at the memory, flinching a little when the movement tugs on his stitches. His fingers come up of their own accord to brush over the spot. The bandage seems to be coming loose.

"You should have gone to the hospital."

He turns to see her standing with her arms crossed, chewing on the corner of her lip. He smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and says lightly, "Nah, it's fine. I've had much worse."

It's the truth, but it doesn't seem to work the way he expected as Lucy's face merely darkens.

"Honestly Lucy, it's okay," he insists. "It was a deep graze, not even a full bullet wound. I'll be fine."

He sits on the couch and she takes a seat across from him on the coffee table.

"Let me see," she sighs. She gently moves the collar of his shirt to the side, exposing the large square of gauze. The medical tape has peeled off one side, the bandage lifting away. Wyatt struggles to keep his face neutral as she begins to smooth her fingers over the edges of the medical tape, sealing it back in place.

"I thought you couldn’t stand the sight of blood," he tries to tease her. Lucy doesn't look up, her eyes still focused on her task.

"I'm getting used to it," is all she says, and it saddens him to think that she has seen blood and serious injuries enough over the past year that it has become common place. Her fingers graze over the tape in one last sweep, ensuring it won't lift again. He feels the pad of her index finger miss its mark and brush his chest instead and he exhales sharply through his nose, eyes closing briefly at the touch.

_Get it together, Logan._

"Here I thought your doctorate was in history, not medicine," he smirks, trying to diffuse the tension. He opens his eyes to meet hers only to find that her jaw is clenched again, her eyes fixed firmly on his shoulder.

"Lucy," Wyatt says incredulously, "are you mad at me?"

"You shouldn't have jumped in front of me," she replies tersely. Her fingers flex, clenching into fists and releasing.

It's not what he's expecting.

"Lucy," he repeats, ducking his head to look her in the eyes. "It's literally my job. You're the historian. Rufus is the pilot. I'm the one protecting you both. At the end of the day, I'm the expendable one."

"Don't say that," she snaps, jumping to her feet. "You know that's not true!"

She says it so raggedly that his next words die in his throat and he is momentarily taken aback. When she doesn't continue, he rises to his feet, finds his voice and gently insists, "It is. And that's okay. I knew what I was signing up for."

"And if you'd—" she swallows harshly, "If you'd died today? Then what? Where would Rufus and I be then?"

Wyatt shifts on his feet and chooses to answer honestly. "They would find someone to replace me. Agent Christopher had me hand pick potential replacements in the event—"

"Just—stop," she insists with a wave of her hand. She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, and Wyatt waits, unsure of where this is going.

"There's no one else to replace you, Wyatt. We need _you_. I need you," she says softly, her eyes downcast. Her eyes flick back up to him and she says firmly, "So you don't get to take unnecessary risks."

" _You_ need me?" he asks quietly.

" _Yes_ ," she insists, sounding almost exasperated. "How can you not—?"

She breaks off with a sigh, running her hands through her hair in frustration. Wyatt watches her intently now. She closes her eyes for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts. When she opens them, he feels fixed to the spot at the depths of emotion he can see in them.

"Just promise me, okay?" she needles, her eyes pleading. "No more unnecessary risks."

He wants to do it. He wants to promise her because he knows it will make her feel better. He wants to agree, to say the words she wants to hear because he knows it will smooth the crease in her forehead and alleviate the tension in her body. But he can't. He doesn't want to lie to her.

"I can't—It wasn't an unnecessary risk, Lucy," he says wearily.

Lucy's lips press into a thin line. "It was," she persists. "We don't even know that she was trying to kill me. And I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Knowing self-defense doesn't make you bulletproof, Lucy!" Wyatt growls. He can feel his patience wearing thin, frustrated that she doesn't understand. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to stand there and watch you get shot."

"Oh so it's okay for me to watch you get hurt but not the other way around?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes!" he snaps.

"Why is that okay? How does that make any—"

"Because I love you, Lucy!"

Oh.

 _Oh shit_.

He hadn't meant to yell it. There was no taking it back now.

Lucy looks temporarily stunned, the anger drained from her face. "You—? Did you just say—"

"Yes."

She takes one step forward, looking hesitant. "And did you…"

"Mean it?" he interrupts. He looks at her solemnly. "Yeah."

Lucy feels lightheaded.

_Maybe we do need to be open to possibilities._

_Possibilities of what?_

He'd tried to tell her then. She hadn't been listening.

She takes his face in her hands like she had so many weeks before, only this time she doesn't hesitate. Her mouth covers his, just a light brush of lips, and she can feel him go rigid with surprise beneath her touch. After a moment she can feel herself hesitate at his lack of response, and then suddenly Wyatt comes wonderfully alive beneath her. He places one hand at the small of her back, bringing her closer into his chest. The other threads through her hair as he slants his mouth over hers, deepening their kiss.

_Oh._

He takes a step backwards and feels his knees buckle when the edge of the couch meets the back of his legs. Lucy follows him down, her knees settling on either side of his hips. His fingers come up to tangle in her hair as he nips at her lower lip and she hears herself hum lowly in the back of her throat. She kisses him until she's breathless before she pulls away and leans her forehead against his.

"So," Wyatt says when he finds his voice. He sounds breathless himself. "Does this mean you aren't mad at me anymore?"

"You're too reckless. I'm always going to be a bit mad at you," she murmurs. When she sees doubt begin to cloud his eyes she takes his face in her hands once more to ensure he's looking at her. "But I love you, so I'll get over it."

_Oh._

It's all he needs to hear, and he pulls her back down to him. 

*

Wyatt wakes up in the middle of the night to find himself alone in a bed of tangled sheets. His hand slides over the empty side of the bed, searching. Still warm. He tugs on a pair of sleep pants that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor and pads barefoot out into his living room. The balcony door is open, and he can see Lucy leaning against the railing. She's barefoot and bare legged, but she has his t-shirt on. Her hair looks a bit wild, still mussed from sleep and earlier in the evening. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her before making his way to the balcony himself. She leans back into him when wraps his arms around her waist from behind, his lips catching on her shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks lowly.

"I did for a bit," she murmurs. "Thought I'd come see if I could see my apartment from here."

"You can," he assures her absently, still pressing kisses to the column of her neck.

Lucy makes a strangled noise that may have been a laugh. "And here you were worried about _me_ being the Peeping Tom."

He scoffs. "Lucy Preston, I would _never_ —"

"Save it," she laughs, turning in his arms to face him. She looks happy, and he feels pretty weightless himself at the moment, caught up in her and the feeling of _rightness_ at having her in his home barefoot and in his clothes, laughing with him carelessly.

"Come back inside," he whispers when he feels her shiver. He grins at her rakishly and suggests, "I'll warm you up."

"Is that a promise?" she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow. She lets him take her hand and lead her back inside.

She feels his laugh more than hears it when he presses her into the door of his bedroom. "Yes ma'am."

 

 

 

A listing for Wyatt's apartment goes up two months later.

**End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are always appreciated :)
> 
> Also: I have another multi-chapter Wyatt/Lucy fic in the works! Keep an eye out for the first chapter posted either tonight or tomorrow!


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